The Pisces
Page 18
“No, I can handle it,” I said. “But thank you. I think I only need two items anyway: one bra, one pair of underpants. Oh, and garters!”
Claire laughed.
“What are you going to, a bachelorette party?”
“I don’t know, he asked for garters specifically,” I said.
“What a wanker. Does he think you’re some kind of doll?”
I actually liked being a doll. I wished Garrett would just pick out the bra and underwear too. It made it easier than having to decide on my own. My decisions had never led anywhere good. But Bridget, hopped up on a potential commission, was thrilled to sell me garters. She tsked Claire and told her that garters were chic for a modern woman. They were a nod to the classic, but you could do them in a modern way.
I settled on the black lace thong, the black lace bra with the pink underneath, a plain pair of black velvet and satin garters, and some sheer black thigh-high stockings. The total was $395. I didn’t know what I was doing or who I was being, but I knew that I liked it better than me.
19.
The following morning I packed an overnight bag with everything in it. Then I took it all out, thinking I should probably just wear it all to the hotel. I didn’t know if I’d be staying over or if it would just be an afternoon thing. Staying over scared me. The thought of it made me feel trapped, like the way I felt once I begged myself into Jamie’s house and then was like “Now what?” I was already having “now what” and I wasn’t even in the bed with this guy. What if I sweat in my sleep or farted? I hadn’t slept with a new person in years. Farting in my sleep with Jamie was an entirely different situation than farting on a handsome stranger. Also, I didn’t know what to do about Dominic and his food and medication. If I left him at home could he wait to use the bathroom all night? I didn’t think so. Annika sometimes used a dog sitter named Moira who would sleep over. She had left me Moira’s number in case of emergencies. But I didn’t want Moira to tell Annika I’d been out all night.
I decided I would just walk Dominic and feed him right before I left, maybe leave him some extra food. If I slept over I would make sure to come home first thing at dawn. And if he peed and pooped on the floor, so what? It could be cleaned up.
Next I took to grooming my body. I couldn’t stop thinking about the possible anal. My asshole was definitely not a vacant space. What was I going to do? How was his dick going to get in if there was a shit blocking the way? Would there be a shit blocking his dick? Would he get shit on his dick? In the bathtub I tried to give myself a fake enema, swishing some of the water from the bath directly into my ass. It didn’t feel like anything was giving. I wondered how far in the canal it was. So I reached my finger in my butt and felt around. There was the tip of it, not far from the entrance.
Dripping wet, I went over to the toilet and sat down. Dominic looked up at me from underneath his doggy eyebrows. I squeezed and squeezed, sliding around on the toilet, but nothing came out. How did others do this all the time? Who could be expected to have a pristine butthole? I slid my finger in and dug around. I tried to pull some out, and it worked. Now there was shit on my finger, some in the toilet, but still some in the hole. I’d only broken the shit in half inside me, not gotten it all out. So I went back in. Then I squeezed again. I felt like my eyeballs were going to pop out. Eventually the rest of the piece of shit came out. I could tell that it was the end.
I got back in the bathtub and ran the water again. I washed off my finger and my butt four times each with rose soap. It was a fancy tub with jets. I turned them on and put my ass up to the jets, like a bidet. My hole felt tired already and no one had even fucked it yet. But then the jet started to turn me on. I felt a feeling I had never felt before, almost like my butthole was blossoming. I wondered if my whole ass canal was full of water. I imagined it was Garrett’s dick. I didn’t come but I felt really warm inside. This was exciting. I felt a bit like a Hollywood starlet, someone with something going on. A life was happening.
20.
I arrived at the Shalimar wearing the lingerie under a trench coat that I found in Steve’s closet. I’d done a lot of snooping in Annika’s house, looking for I wasn’t sure what. Something to help me know my sister better? Something to show me that the life she and Steve had together wasn’t as beautiful as it seemed to be? But there were no private journals with any confessionals, no secret passageways or locked boxes. Their relationship was like her ample ass: out in the open, giving no fucks, proudly just there. It was what it was.
The trench made me feel petite and Hepburn-esque. Garrett texted to say that he was running late. I got nervous. It felt like my vagina and butthole were sweating. I went into one of the bathrooms in the lobby. It was big, like its own little room, with a marble floor and sink. It smelled like geraniums and I noticed an expensive candle burning. For some reason I thought about stealing it.
I decided to hide in the bathroom until Garrett arrived. I stripped down out of the coat and wiped down my vagina and ass with soap. Each had now been scrubbed multiple times. Then I looked in the mirror. I really did look cute. The light in there was dim and I took a few pictures of myself: hand on hip, ass out, from the back and side. Garrett texted to say that he was waiting in the lobby. I decided I would make him wait a few minutes, not text back, but just appear.
When I came out to the lobby he was checking his phone.
“Hey,” I said.
“Oh hey,” he said.
He rose and looked me in the eyes. My body felt all needle-y.
“Do you want to get a drink first?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. I wondered why we couldn’t just get drinks in the room. I had a vision involving Champagne. Also, my ass was starting to sweat again.
We went to the bar and sat around drinking cocktails. It was dark and tropical in there, with black palm-tree wallpaper like the Beverly Hills Hotel on opium. This time we really didn’t have anything to say to each other. I guess he didn’t feel like talking about graphic design anymore and I wasn’t going to bring up fonts. He still didn’t ask me anything about me. It wasn’t awkward, though. The silence was thick with knowing that I would be kissing him soon, and other things. I imagined his tongue in my pussy. If only he would look me in the eye again.
“All right,” he said as I took the last sip of my vodka and pineapple juice. “This is how I think we should do it. I’m going to go in first. You should wait here. Then in about five minutes or so you come back and knock on all four of them. I will let you into the one I am in.”
“All four of what?” I asked.
“The bathroom doors,” he said.
“Wait,” I said. “I don’t understand. Why are we going to the bathroom?”
“To fuck.” He laughed but he looked a little concerned. “I’ve always wanted to fuck in the bathrooms here.”
“Oh,” I said. “I thought we were, like, getting a room or something.”
“Oh shit, sorry. No. The fantasy was that we would fuck in the bathroom. Sorry. Did I not make that clear?”
“Not exactly.”
“Are you cool with that?” he asked.
I tried not to look disappointed. But I was. What the hell? Was I not good enough for him to get a room? Did I look like I wanted to fuck in a bathroom? Maybe this was sexier. Maybe this was like an honor, that he thought I would be wild enough. Anybody could fuck in a hotel room. Not everyone could fuck in the lobby bathroom.
Claire laughed.
“What are you going to, a bachelorette party?”
“I don’t know, he asked for garters specifically,” I said.
“What a wanker. Does he think you’re some kind of doll?”
I actually liked being a doll. I wished Garrett would just pick out the bra and underwear too. It made it easier than having to decide on my own. My decisions had never led anywhere good. But Bridget, hopped up on a potential commission, was thrilled to sell me garters. She tsked Claire and told her that garters were chic for a modern woman. They were a nod to the classic, but you could do them in a modern way.
I settled on the black lace thong, the black lace bra with the pink underneath, a plain pair of black velvet and satin garters, and some sheer black thigh-high stockings. The total was $395. I didn’t know what I was doing or who I was being, but I knew that I liked it better than me.
19.
The following morning I packed an overnight bag with everything in it. Then I took it all out, thinking I should probably just wear it all to the hotel. I didn’t know if I’d be staying over or if it would just be an afternoon thing. Staying over scared me. The thought of it made me feel trapped, like the way I felt once I begged myself into Jamie’s house and then was like “Now what?” I was already having “now what” and I wasn’t even in the bed with this guy. What if I sweat in my sleep or farted? I hadn’t slept with a new person in years. Farting in my sleep with Jamie was an entirely different situation than farting on a handsome stranger. Also, I didn’t know what to do about Dominic and his food and medication. If I left him at home could he wait to use the bathroom all night? I didn’t think so. Annika sometimes used a dog sitter named Moira who would sleep over. She had left me Moira’s number in case of emergencies. But I didn’t want Moira to tell Annika I’d been out all night.
I decided I would just walk Dominic and feed him right before I left, maybe leave him some extra food. If I slept over I would make sure to come home first thing at dawn. And if he peed and pooped on the floor, so what? It could be cleaned up.
Next I took to grooming my body. I couldn’t stop thinking about the possible anal. My asshole was definitely not a vacant space. What was I going to do? How was his dick going to get in if there was a shit blocking the way? Would there be a shit blocking his dick? Would he get shit on his dick? In the bathtub I tried to give myself a fake enema, swishing some of the water from the bath directly into my ass. It didn’t feel like anything was giving. I wondered how far in the canal it was. So I reached my finger in my butt and felt around. There was the tip of it, not far from the entrance.
Dripping wet, I went over to the toilet and sat down. Dominic looked up at me from underneath his doggy eyebrows. I squeezed and squeezed, sliding around on the toilet, but nothing came out. How did others do this all the time? Who could be expected to have a pristine butthole? I slid my finger in and dug around. I tried to pull some out, and it worked. Now there was shit on my finger, some in the toilet, but still some in the hole. I’d only broken the shit in half inside me, not gotten it all out. So I went back in. Then I squeezed again. I felt like my eyeballs were going to pop out. Eventually the rest of the piece of shit came out. I could tell that it was the end.
I got back in the bathtub and ran the water again. I washed off my finger and my butt four times each with rose soap. It was a fancy tub with jets. I turned them on and put my ass up to the jets, like a bidet. My hole felt tired already and no one had even fucked it yet. But then the jet started to turn me on. I felt a feeling I had never felt before, almost like my butthole was blossoming. I wondered if my whole ass canal was full of water. I imagined it was Garrett’s dick. I didn’t come but I felt really warm inside. This was exciting. I felt a bit like a Hollywood starlet, someone with something going on. A life was happening.
20.
I arrived at the Shalimar wearing the lingerie under a trench coat that I found in Steve’s closet. I’d done a lot of snooping in Annika’s house, looking for I wasn’t sure what. Something to help me know my sister better? Something to show me that the life she and Steve had together wasn’t as beautiful as it seemed to be? But there were no private journals with any confessionals, no secret passageways or locked boxes. Their relationship was like her ample ass: out in the open, giving no fucks, proudly just there. It was what it was.
The trench made me feel petite and Hepburn-esque. Garrett texted to say that he was running late. I got nervous. It felt like my vagina and butthole were sweating. I went into one of the bathrooms in the lobby. It was big, like its own little room, with a marble floor and sink. It smelled like geraniums and I noticed an expensive candle burning. For some reason I thought about stealing it.
I decided to hide in the bathroom until Garrett arrived. I stripped down out of the coat and wiped down my vagina and ass with soap. Each had now been scrubbed multiple times. Then I looked in the mirror. I really did look cute. The light in there was dim and I took a few pictures of myself: hand on hip, ass out, from the back and side. Garrett texted to say that he was waiting in the lobby. I decided I would make him wait a few minutes, not text back, but just appear.
When I came out to the lobby he was checking his phone.
“Hey,” I said.
“Oh hey,” he said.
He rose and looked me in the eyes. My body felt all needle-y.
“Do you want to get a drink first?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said. I wondered why we couldn’t just get drinks in the room. I had a vision involving Champagne. Also, my ass was starting to sweat again.
We went to the bar and sat around drinking cocktails. It was dark and tropical in there, with black palm-tree wallpaper like the Beverly Hills Hotel on opium. This time we really didn’t have anything to say to each other. I guess he didn’t feel like talking about graphic design anymore and I wasn’t going to bring up fonts. He still didn’t ask me anything about me. It wasn’t awkward, though. The silence was thick with knowing that I would be kissing him soon, and other things. I imagined his tongue in my pussy. If only he would look me in the eye again.
“All right,” he said as I took the last sip of my vodka and pineapple juice. “This is how I think we should do it. I’m going to go in first. You should wait here. Then in about five minutes or so you come back and knock on all four of them. I will let you into the one I am in.”
“All four of what?” I asked.
“The bathroom doors,” he said.
“Wait,” I said. “I don’t understand. Why are we going to the bathroom?”
“To fuck.” He laughed but he looked a little concerned. “I’ve always wanted to fuck in the bathrooms here.”
“Oh,” I said. “I thought we were, like, getting a room or something.”
“Oh shit, sorry. No. The fantasy was that we would fuck in the bathroom. Sorry. Did I not make that clear?”
“Not exactly.”
“Are you cool with that?” he asked.
I tried not to look disappointed. But I was. What the hell? Was I not good enough for him to get a room? Did I look like I wanted to fuck in a bathroom? Maybe this was sexier. Maybe this was like an honor, that he thought I would be wild enough. Anybody could fuck in a hotel room. Not everyone could fuck in the lobby bathroom.
